Jokes and Masks in Equestria
by vultraz168
Summary: The Comedian and Rorschach end up in Equestria. First fanfic. Rated M for language and violence.
1. Prologue - Comic Relief

**This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic (this story was originally going to be a Terraria crossover), I haven't read the novel or watched the movie so I might get some things wrong, constructive criticism appreciated - I might rewrite a few of these chapters as I go on. R&R. I don't own MLP:FiM, Hasbro does. I on't own Watchmen; Alan Moore/DC Comics does. This is a prologue; if you know about the story's first few parts already you should just skip to the ending section.**

* * *

In a silent high-rise apartment, a disconsolate Edward Blake sunk in his leather couch; a cigar dangled from below the unkempt, curly hairs of his mustache, and a puff of sharp smoke streamed through the air. On the table next to him sat his trusty long-barreled pistol, and beneath it, a 1985 issue of Hustler. Outside, the city's lights - tall skyscrapers shimmer a brilliant golden, the light shining in dimly through glass windows. High above the city, wind blows against the window, and the noise of traffic rings through New York. But nothing really served to break the darkness in the room except for the pale light of the television screen he absently watched; on it was the image of a middle-aged woman talking to another off-screen.

"_...Maybe the reason why the Soviets are doing these bomb tests is because of Dr. Manhattan - Of course! Maybe the whole world feels like that-"_

The messily-haired old man shook his head. He didn't care about vigilantism right now, nor did he want anything to do with the delicate relationship between the United States and the Soviet Union with only a sole blue-skinned god who really didn't care about humanity at all trying to balance the nuclear situation out - an omnipotent being indifferent to humanity's suffering, put in place as humanity's only hope. _When the nukes start flying - and they will - ain't nothin's gon' be important, after all. We'll all be dust._

_And that delusional son of a bitch Veidt thinks he's gonna fix it by blowing up "a couple of major cities around the world..." London, Paris, Beijing, New York, Los Angeles, Hong Kong, and Moscow... like it'd make a goddamn difference. Ending millions of lives is not going to make a damn difference._ _"The biggest practical joke in human history," _he recalled with disgust... it wasn't _goddamn_ funny to the Comedian; even _he,_ _a guy __who had no fuckin' problem with ending the lives of innocent children and raping and killing a pregnant Vietnamese woman who stood up for her own country... just because it was "war", the guy who took up "heroism" for the sole purpose of hurting criminals..._ even _he_ couldn't believe Veidt would do something like that... and why? What was the reason for such a horrible deed? To _"save goddamned humanity"... nobody can save humanity._ But the plan itself... it was so _wrong_, so _horrible... that Veidt could just kill millions of innocent people without even blinking..._

_If I just hadn't looked out that damn window, never jumped down to that goddamn island, never found out about that plan... I'd actually have taken randomly dying, all my sins behind me, in an explosion in New York than knowing about this plan... Sure, _he'd done some pretty bad things in his life... he'd thought that he was above it all, that he knew how bad the world was... and now, with his deliberate mask of cynicism and amorality shattered, he was left sitting here in this dark apartment.

Taking the cigar out of his mouth, he held the remote control up, and his thumb pressed down on the button.

Click.

A loud rock song disturbed the apartment's quiet, accompanied by the image of an astronaut on the moon standing next to a flag which bore a flashing logo, reading, in gaudy, bold letters, "MTV".

_Click._

"_Soviet ships have violated  
the territorial waters-"_

_Not more of this bullshit_.

_**Click.**_

"_Unforgettable, that's what you are…"_

_Nat King Cole_, he recognized. Blake sat back on the cushioned couch and watched the commercial slowly unfold, with the tranquil song playing in the background, hoping it would help him calm down._  
_

_"Unforgettable, though near or far..."_

Below the song's sweetly-sung lyrics, though, he began to detect the pace of measured, muffled footsteps on the carpet outside his apartment as he put the cigar back into his mouth. He turned towards the door on his right; a shoe-shaped shadow interrupted the glow of light emanating from under it.

_**CRACK**_

A foot burst through the wooden door, leaving a hole where the lock had been, through which a single ray of light reached into the apartment. As the door swung open, a well-built, black-robed figure stepped through, his face hidden in the shadows - but Eddie recognized the intruder immediately as he stood up in his robe. _Adrian Veidt_ -_ Ozymandias_.

_"Like a song of love that clings to me..."_

He knew he wouldn't be able to win the fight; not at his current physical condition - he knew that tonight would be the night he would die.

_"How the thought of you does things to me..."_

But to him, death wasn't something to be afraid of; if anything, it was the ultimate relief; freedom from the torturous knowledge of the horrific plan Veidt planned to execute... but more ultimately, it resolved the _sadistic, meaningless joke_ _that was human life - all the memories, all the experiences, all taken away and rendered meaningless in the bitter end, whether it be the end of their life or the oblivion humans bring upon themselves through their savage nature, as Rorschach understands, and no matter how hard people try to escape the end or ignore it or hide it with their superstitions and their self-created illusions, it is in the end where they're forced to confront reality. There is no goddamn point to life. But for the hell of it, or maybe just because I don't want to die like a pussy, let's go out with a fight._

_"_It's a matter of time, I suppose," he grunted with an air of nonchalance, taking the cigar out of his mouth, tipping the ceramic handle in his hand over and spilling his coffee cup's contents onto the floor.

_"Never before... has someone been more..."_

He hurled the cup at the intruder with his near-superhuman strength, and then dove for the pistol lying next to him, his fingers catching the grip as he rolled out onto the cold, moonlit balcony. The black figure moved out of the way just as the cup smashed against the adjacent wall with a resounding _crack_, shattering into pieces.

_"Unforgettable, in every way, and forever more, that's how you'll stay..."_

His finger pressed down on the trigger of the pistol once, and the apartment was momentarily lit with the flash of a gunshot, accompanied by the _pop _of a silenced pistol; however, the figure was able to move out of the way, and the bullet hit the television set, creating a spiderweb crack as the screen blacked out.

Out of the darkness the intruder struck, snatching the firearm out of his hand, and Blake found himself hurled against a wall. The man tossed the pistol aside, walked up to him.

_"That's why, darling... it's incredible..."_

The form began delivering an overwhelming flurry of blows, each one sending a shock of pain through his body like an iron club swinging into his face as Blake slowly went from simply trying to get a few shots back at him to futilely trying to dodge and block the fists.

_"That someone so unforgettable..."_

He sank onto the floor dazedly, the blinding pain permeating every muscle, every bone in his body, but he wasn't done for yet. Mustering the last of his strength, he dove into the figure standing above him with a furious roar and pinned him against the stone fireplace. He sent one blow into the figure, but it was able to duck just as his hand punched a chunk off the stone instead. His other fist flew into the plaster wall, punching a hole into the next apartment.

"_thinks I am unforgettable too..."_

The figure forced him into the glass table, shattering it, and he was picked up again and sent flying into the table set at the other side of the room as he fell into it… Suddenly, the pain became a thing that was distant to him, and the sound of the table breaking under the impact seemed faraway. Dazedly, he crawled back to his feet; behind him, on the marble counter, his hand found the grip of a kitchen knife, and he slid it out of the stand it stood in.

With a flick of the wrist, the knife spun through the air before embedding itself in the TV screen with the sound of shattering glass. His fingers found a meat cleaver and threw it at the approaching Veidt, who caught it and redirected it into the ground, lodging it in the slate tiles with another _twang_.

Blake retrieved yet another blade from the stand and slashed at his assailant's throat, but Veidt reflexively drew back. The old man unleashed all his fury at the black-robed figure, but every single time he wildly lunged, stabbed, or slashed at him, his target managed to skillfully dodge or block every single move he made, and he soon found himself being forced back onto the counter.

Veidt pressed down on his hand and abruptly wrenched it at an obtuse angle; the sound of cracking bone was heard, and the old man cried out in pain, but inside, he was laughing, and the grin on his face showed it.

"GAAAAAGH!"

Veidt picked him up.

_"Unforgettable…"_

"It's a joke… it's all a joke…_ Mother, forgive me..._" his smiling face muttered, blood trickling down his cheek. This was the end.

"_... in every way, and forever more…"_

A spot of blood dripped upon the smiley-face badge he wore on his robe.

"_That's how you'll stay…"_

The black-clad figure slammed his head into the counter, a piece of it breaking off as he crumpled to the floor. He pushed himself up, looking at his assailant for one last time before he was picked up and catapulted through the glass wall. It was over. He'd lost.

_"That's why, darling... it's so incredible..."_

"IT'S ALL GODDAMN OVER!" he yelled, delirious with delight, laughing afterwards as he fell the whole way down, shards of glass and his badge following him.

_"That someone so unforgettable..."_

His body hit the concrete sidewalk with a thud, and crimson blood pooled out from under his robe.

_"thinks I am unforgettable, too..."_

The aluminum smiley-face pin landed next to his body with a _clink, _teetering around before settling on the ground.

But the story wasn't quite over for the Comedian. Not yet.

* * *

In the cold rain, a lone, masked figure treaded over wet grass and mud, water dripping off his fedora and his leather trench coat as he walked through the empty blackness, broken only by the flash of a lightning bolt. He paid no heed to any of the gravestones around him except for a single one, before which a spray of roses lay.

_...Edward Blake. Born 1918, buried in the rain, murdered... Is that what happens to us? A life of conflict with no time for friends - so that when it's done, only our enemies leave roses. Violent lives, ending violently. Blake understood. Humans are savage in nature. No matter how much you try to dress it up - to disguise it - Blake saw society's true face, and chose to become a parody of it - a joke_

The figure stopped at the gravestone and bent over, and a finger wrapped in leather reached out and picked a flower from the bunch. He eyed the rose in his glove for a while through an ink-blotted mask.

_No one else saw the joke. That's why he was lonely. Heard a joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems hard and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says, "Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. Says, "But doctor... I am Pagliacci."_

The man took the rose, placed it in the chest pocket of his brown leather coat, stood up, turned around, and walked down the stone road leading away from the cemetery, and the gravestone sat there in the cold rain, a single rose now missing from the spray. As the man treaded past the wrought-iron gate, he turned around, looking back at the Comedian's grave again, before heading off into the darkness.

_Good joke. Everybody laughs. Roll on snare drum. Curtains._

Suddenly, thunder cracked through the air, and a flash of blinding light lit the cemetery.

Above the Comedian's grave, a faint blue aura of energy appeared, beginning to expand, at first slowly, but then more rapidly, with the color growing in intensity. Blue lightning began to crackle through the air and filled it with the smell of ozone; within the center of the blue aura, a white sphere of light exploded as a ring of blue fire shot out from the center, and a blue-skinned man appeared, hovering above the gravestone.

Yes, the appearance of Dr. Manhattan was always a sight to behold, especially for someone who has never seen it before - but there was nobody around to witness this event take place, and the near-omnipotent, being knows that he will not be detected, thanks to his nonlinear perception of time - to him, _everything is predetermined; he can see into the past, present, and future, but his actions are subject to the universe's will, _and the universe's will decrees this: He is not here to pay his respects to the Comedian; even though the two of them may have shared a partnership in the fight in Vietnam, he does not care for the humans' pointless lives right now (but he realises sometime in the future he will), nor does he care about the tense situation between Russia and United States. _With the sheer scale of our__ universe, I could kill the entire human race, and nobody would even notice._

No, he is here for an experiment - to humor himself, firstly - because it was quite funny on its own, and it was a way of getting something funny out of the humans he was so tired of, but secondly and more importantly, to give the Comedian a nice little... parting gift, one could say.

Two seconds in the future, his arms are raised, and he is in the process of finding the Comedian's consciousness and memories once hidden away inside his body in the past, even though he knows where it is. Four seconds later, he finds it. Edward Blake experiences a brief life-after-death before his consciousness and memories are removed from his body in a time-frozen state, a model of hovering, frozen electrical impulses engulfed in an ethereal blue aura.

The being looks up to the stars, and pinpoints the location of a... certainly... _interesting... _choice of planet - dominated for the majority of its lifetime by a race of colorful equines (He chuckles to himself.). He scans the planet's history, looking past all the countless battles, wars, births, and deaths, and selects an eye-catching point in its time. With a flash of blue light, he teleports Blake's mind to that particular place, in that particular time, creating for it a body suited for the environment along with a few "privileges", and then he teleports away to continue his work at the Rockefeller Military Research Center.


	2. Welcome

**I don't own MLP:FiM, Hasbro does. I don't own Watchmen; Alan Moore/DC Comics does. This is my first fanfic. This chapter was written on my Android; excuse typos. Please rate and review; I really need to know how to improve my writing!**

* * *

The last thing Edward Blake _thought _he would know was laughing as he plunged... _maybe twenty, thirty stories, I don't fuckin' know_... through stinging New York City air with the sidewalk flying up to him, twinkling shards of glass following. And just before the concrete slammed into his body, he thought that would be it - the end of that sadistic joke called human life. He was prepared to die; he was prepared for obliteration; he was ready for whatever came after - or at least so he thought.

A sickening thud and a fleeting flash of pain marked the impact; the welcoming oblivion enveloped him like a warm blanket... he embraced it.

_I'm free._

_I'm finally free._

**BOOM**

Just as he began to settle into the darkness, an explosion blasted through the silence, leaving an oppressive roaring sensation in his ears. As the world began to spin and soar around him, the thoughts in his mind were instantly reduced to nothing but a soup of panicked, confused static.

_**********HAIEJDB SJFNLX NPAINEXPLOSION.**__.. _

_The hell was that?_

It was then he began to feel as though he were being pulled somewhere, and, like coming out of water, he began to rise out of the shrouds of death and into the living world. At first, the sounds echoed off in the distance, and the world appeared only as a dark blur behind a black curtain, seeming only to be apparitions fabricated by his mind. A tinge of worry that he wasn't actually dead kindled in his mind - but as the seconds went past, there was no doubt he was alive as the sensations of life jolted into something almost overwhelmingly real and vivid.

_So, I'm not dead. Goddamn it. Or is this the afterlife?_

Cool wind swept against his forehead, cooling the ever-present coat of sweat that covered it. His form sunk into the soft, damp earth beneath, blades of grass tickled his face, and the static rustle of leaves and the chirps and buzzes of insects formed the soundscape; it was relaxing to him, but as he began to comprehend his senses, it all became much more disturbing: He did not lie on a hospital cot, nor did the air smell of medicine or the New York City electric-car ozone filth that permeated every building and every street - but instead it took on a damp, fresh, woody scent. _Huh... this ain't a goddamn hospital… where the hell am I?_

He forced his eyes open and squinted in the... sun?'s sharp stiletto light; he lifted his head, and all around, a dark green blur greeted his sight; a blue sky soared high above him. He blinked in confusion and waited for his vision to clear, assuming it was just a product of his morning sight, _just a_ _hallucination or somethin'_, but as his vision cleared...

_Ugh. It's a forest. Another goddamn piece-of-shit forest. Like Vietnam. Fuck that place. Is this where guys go when they die?_

Blake pushed himself up from the ground; as he did so, he could barely tell a few things were wrong with how he did it... his fists... were permanently clenched, a numb feeling buzzed where his fingers once were, and he could only hold his body off the ground high enough so that the roots which snaked across the forest floor just barely sank beneath his eyes.

_When did I get so short... the hell? Somethin's wrong here._

He began looking around, examining his environment with a careful eye.

_...Why the hell should I be here? Why the hell am I still alive? I hate this. I'm tired of it._

Enclosing him on all sides was a suffocating forest; within it, a shadowy maze of gnarled trunks and branches, twisting and snaking around each other. A thick canopy of pine-green leaves choked the forest of sunlight; from place to place, a vine could be seen dangling limply from the canopy. Black-leafed ferns and mushrooms that gave off a glow, illuminating the surrounding forest with eerie green light, sprouted from the ground. Fireflies, little yellow orbs upon a matte darkness, flitted haphazardly through the tenebrous, suffocating maze of branches and leaves. He himself lay inside a clearing; from the blue sky above him, one beam of light shone down onto the grass, casting a blurry chartreuse on it.

_Heh. Just like Vietnam. _The sounds of gunshots and explosions briefly rang around him; ghosts of the poignant scent of ash, burnt flesh, and iron floated in the air.

Seeing no answers to why he was here, he mustered his mental strength and forced himself to stand up, and the minute he did, he could tell something was definitely wrong.

"Hm… WhoaaA*umph*"

Just as he began to stand up on his feet, he noticed standing up on his feet felt... _well, awkward... _and he suddenly began to fall backwards, tumbling back on the grass with a grunt. Thinking that it might have had something to do with his _little sidewalk-diving experience back in New York_, he looked back to check the physical integrity of his legs.

His jaw dropped.

"The _hell_… _shit..._"

He'd seen some strange things in his life, but none as strange as this. Where he'd expected maybe broken, bloody _human _legs to be were bronze-furred stubs about half the length of his old legs; he stared at them in disbelief. Deciding to try and move them around, he found, to his mild amusement, that they could be bent in almost any way he pleased without any pain. Bony pops and cracks came out of his legs as he twisted them, and he gave off a brief, low chuckle.

After he had gotten tired of contorting his... _new legs_ in ways that would've been ridiculously painful to any human, his attention next shifted to his permanently-clenched fists. He brought his hands up to his face… _my hands are flat… no fingers…_ _those are hooves..._ it took him a moment to make the connection:

_...oh, no. Please don't tell me those crackpot Buddhists were actually right and I just got reincarnated as a goddamn horse or somethin'..._

The Comedian stared at his new _hooves _with intent.

_...Nah, they were right. Damn. Now the joke is on me, and it's fuckin' hilarious. Well, either that, or I'm on some serious drugs, or you get turned into a horse in the afterlife… Anyways, I don't know if I'd be able to deal with Veidt's plan as a horse, ehehe... wonder if I can still talk..._

He cleared his throat in preparation for… something; he jogged his mind for something to say… maybe a line out of a song, or a quote from a book… Well, fuck it. Just say something, Blake. _Rorschach and his journal... eh._

"Blake's journal. October 13, 1985 - presumably. Just woke up as a fuckin' horse. Fuck me, fuck my life. Fuck everything."

_Well_, it was a good thing he could still talk - he was expecting a _neigh_ to come out of his throat… still, it was a bit - well, more than a bit - surprising._ Ya know, shit. Maybe I speak some sort of horsey language that only horses can understand or something… Wait… there wasn't anyone around to hear that, was there? _He stood up on all fours, took a cursory scan of the forest; once, his eyes swept around the darkness, twice now, thrice... and his eyes locked with the mask hiding inside the thick foliage, ghostly ink-blots shifting upon white cloth.

"Hurm. Was wondering when you'd find me," the mask growled. The voice was gravelly and monotone, saturated with indifference, and it seemed to the Comedian very _familiar_... _familiar_...

"Rorschach?" he tentatively asked, a tinge of disbelief in his voice.._. _"...Jesus... son of a... wait, how long you been here?"

"Woke up two hours, twenty-two minutes earlier," the mask replied, "your sleeping habits are your problem."

The Comedian humphed. He looked around, raising his arms, "...the… hell are we? And why are you here? Where are the others…?"

"...We are... nowhere I know." Rorschach looked up at the sky; a vague frown revealed itself behind the inkblot mask.

"What?"

"...We're not on Earth anymore."

"WHAT?!"

Rorschach pointed at the sky. "Does that sun look normal to you?"

The Comedian looked up. The sun, a giant yellow orb in the sky... well, that was it, really. _That and the fact that the sun's around five times bigger than it's supposed ta be. _"How the hell..." He turned back to Rorschach.

"The Doctor. Manhattan. Probably sent us somewhere where we couldn't interfere with Veidt's plan." Rorschach grumbled.

"_What?_ Shit. What? Oh, God… so I'm not dead, and now the fuckin' god's just sent us to some other piece-of-shit planet..." Blake buried his face in his hooves, "Jesus Christ… Manhattan?" He looked back up at Rorschach, "But if that's the case, there ain't goddamn much we can do but play along with it…"

Rorschach nodded.

"Oh, that goddamn blue-skinned sonuvabitch... But why are you here?"

"Very long story. Short one? Veidt was the man who killed you…"

"Yeah, I know."

"and he wanted to destroy..." Rorschach said, a hint of indignance forcing through his voice.

"Know that too."

"...right... He did it." The Comedian's face turned pale. Anger began welling up inside his chest.

"Jesus Christ. The sonuvabitch… And maybe for a second there I thought he wouldn't; that it was, just maybe… all a joke... I swear, if I ever got my hands around his throat right now..." suddenly, he lifted himself up from the ground, and. with a roar, he threw a hoof at a nearby tree; the wood collapsed under the force of the blow, and the tree began to fall. He and Rorschach watched as the tree toppled to the ground with a steady creaking, followed by a thud and the rustle of leaves. He stood before the tree, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"...Was going to tell truth to public. Manhattan stopped me. Too weak to kill me; sent me here instead. _Us_, presumably."

"And the others?"

"Last I checked, Veidt, Night Owl, Silk Spectre, Manhattan were still on Earth."

"Huh…"

"Found your gear in nearby chest."

The masked figure _trotted_ out of the bush and into the clearing. Upon seeing his full form, the Comedian almost exploded in laughter, but quickly stifled it out of respect. _Rorschach, the psychopath, the merciless executor of "justice"... transformed into a horse too - dull-brown leather coat - clothed in his own skin, heh - and the fedora and all. Well, not exactly a horse - _the muzzle was out of proportion, being much shorter than usual, and the legs were much stubbier than a regular horse's - like his - _but close enough_. To his pleasant surprise, in Rorschach's hand... _hoof_ ... was the Comedian's black leather vest and ammo strap, adjusted for a horse's body, red-white-and-blue-American-star shoulderplates dangling off the vest, steel gleaming in the sunlight shining from above.

"...How... ya holdin' that… hooves…"

"Don't think about it too much or you'll drop it."

Into the hooves of the bronze-coated horse flew his uniform. _Agh. Caught it. And now... _he had to figure out to put it on. Picking the heavy vest up, he clumsily swung it over his body, raised a foreleg, and managed to push it into the arm hole. He did the same with his other foreleg. Rorschach watched in what seemed to be absent disinterest, though the Comedian thought he had seen a tinge of amusement behind that ink-blotted mask.

"More," Rorschach grumbled, fumbling through the many pockets lining his jacket with his right hoof.

The Comedian's fingers caught his trusty pistol's grip; the black leather gloves and the black domino mask which had once hidden his identity flopped into his hand, drawing up vague memories of when he was _just a lil' kiddo - growin' up with New York, bashin' criminal skulls in for the hell of it. The good days. When there wasn't any of this Cold War, Doomsday, nuclear bomb shit ta deal with. _Nowadays, though, instead of concealing his identity from the world, it really served the opposite purpose, completing his identity as the **Comedian**. He turned the long-barreled pistol over in his hoof, thoughtfully eyeing the smiley-face symbol and the ornate lettering _Nixon 1970_ engraved in the custom M1911's grip; he then slipped his hooves into the gloves and put the mask on his face with the tip of his hoof. He checked the pockets in his leather vest. Compactly shoved inside were a medkit, all the ammo he could ever want, a pack of cigarettes, and a bottle of whiskey... _Oh, yes._

He retrieved the bottle, removed the cap with his hoof _(somehow), _and took a swig. Liquid fire trickled down his throat, followed by a woody aftertaste, _wiping away all the troubles of the human world, of Earth, of Veidt..._ He wiped his mouth on the bronze coat of his hoof, capped the bottle, and shoved it back in its pocket. All this Rorschach watched in disapproval, muttering something including the phrase "filthy drunk" under his breath - but now, Blake felt ready for whatever the universe - well, _Jon _- wanted to throw at them.

"Mm... Alright, Rors. Got any idea what to do now?"

"Main priority to get to Earth and deal with Veidt."

"Y'know, as much as I'd like to get my hands around that guy's throat... can we even do that?"

Rorschach shrugged. "Don't know how; don't know if even possible," Rorschach said in his monotone voice, pointing to a series of deep, almost urgent hoof-shaped indentations in the soft earth leading to the forest, within which a path of disturbed branches and foliage, barely discernible except to those with the keenest of senses, revealed itself to Blake. "But never compromise. Not even after death. We may not be alone. Might be far stretch of imagination... but someone might know way to get back to Earth."

Blake looked at the tracks on the ground and nodded thoughtfully. _Well, ya know... that's a pretty far stretch... man, I really oughta be dead by now... but I suppose it's a start. After all, there ain't much place ta go anyways. Since we're probably on a different planet... wonder if we could build a rocket ship or somethin' like that. Get back ta Earth._ Rorschach nodded back and started down the trail, the Comedian clumsily vaulting over a gigantic root that strapped over the ground behind Rorschach.

"Oof!"

He flopped over on his back on the other side. _Ugh... this horse shit is going to take some time to get used to._

Through the dark forest, the former humans - now _horses_ - followed the trail, struggling through the razor-wire maze of dark branches, roots, vines, and leaves in their way. The Comedian swore under his breath as thorns nicked the skin beneath the bronze fur left unprotected by his vest - and it didn't help when the trench coat trailing behind Rorschach persistently caught on every single branch possible, and Blake would sometimes have to come back and awkwardly free the ink-blot masked vigilante from his occasional predicaments. On one such occasion, while Rorschach sat trapped there, he took his time to observe the environment around him, and coating the threatening thorns that jutted out from his trap, he found what seemed to be crimson blood that he was certain did not belong to Blake or him. To confirm his suspicions, he put his hoof out and wiped a piece of blood off with the tip, putting it to his nose and sniffing it. _Hurm. Blood, deep prints, branches heavily disturbed - seem forced out of position... about same height as mine... points to similar creature, perhaps another horse... fleeing, possibly-_

"EYY! Ya movin' or what?"

"Hm? Hurm," Rorschach grunted, quickly starting off on his trot again, realising he was free from his trap.

As the two followed their path through the forest, the path gradually became more and more defined, and both vigilantes found themselves, to their relief, having to vault and climb less and less. Eventually, the path became a clear dirt trail leading straight forward, completely unobstructed by branches and roots or anything of the like, and the sun began to shine straight down on to the path, for the suffocating canopy of the forest had, along with the obstructive branches and roots, faded away; somewhat interestingly, though, a trail of fresh blood - Rorschach noted, _same blood as before _- became visible on the path. A clearly-paved dirt path was... _news_ to both of them; it indicated that there was some sort of civilization out there - _only they had no idea what sort of civilization to expect_, since Jon had (probably) sent them to a different planet. Blake slowed his trot to a more leisurely walk, now that he was sure there was some sort of civilization out there somewhere; Rorschach followed his lead, coming to the peak of a short slope alongside Blake.

It was then the Comedian's eyes caught something lying on the road far ahead, but he couldn't tell what it was yet. Curiously, he increased his pace to get a better look... As he approached, he began to discern... some sort of yellow box topped by a red roof... _a wheeled cart..._ which was actually being pulled along the road at an almost _frustratingly_ sluggish pace, and behind it leaked a trail of red... _the source of the blood... _his interest in the object peaked, and Rorschach and he galloped ahead to examine it more closely. As the Comedian came to the right of the cart, he turned his head to see what was pulling it... and his jaw dropped.

_...well, shit. I'm probably on drugs right now. Yep._

"...must... get to... _Ponyville_..."

Pulling the cart - well - _not really_ - was... another _horse... sort of, about as out of proportion as Rorschach.._. but its coat was _goddamn blue - apart from all the bruises, scratches, cuts, and bloodstains - and it has a goddamn horn on its head... shit... what's the name... unicorn... _and as it barely trudged forwards with weary, pained eyes behind a silver mane, it muttered the same words over and over in some sort of multisyllabic chant, not even seeming to notice Blake or Rorschach... _muttering? What the f...? _

"...keep yourself together, Trixie..."

_It'stalkingwhatthefuckthehorseistalkinghorsesdon't tal kbut we're horsesand we talkwhat the hell is "Ponyville"?... the horse is talking... agh... the hell happened to my thinkin'... Right. Let's _analyze_ our situation. The horse is goddamn speakin'… in English..._

*THUD*

_Was talking. _

With one last heave, the azure unicorn gave into its exhaustion... _or sheer blood loss, maybe both,_ and it collapsed to the ground limply. From its cuts still leaked crimson liquid, which soaked into the dirt road, giving it the same red they had seen earlier.

"...Shit, Rorschach, did ya just see that? The horse... was talkin'..."

Rorschach nodded.

"So I'm not just hallucinatin' or somethin', right?"

Rorschach shook his head. "Though I'm starting to doubt the reality of what I see... it's not very likely for both of us to hallucinate the same thing."

"Jesus Christ... the horse is real? How far'd it..."

Blake looked back at the trail that they had just walked, spotting the dense foliage of the forest from what seemed to be miles away.

"...shit!"

"Miracle the horse even got as far as it did without dying from blood loss," Rorschach muttered, a tinge of wonder finding its way out of his usually monotone voice.

The Comedian nodded. They both turned back and stared at the... _probably_… _dying_ _unicorn..._ lying on the ground. He was the first to suggest a course of action.

"...Should we just leave it here?"

"No. We're supposed to save people, Blake. Not leave them out for dead. You have medical experience; Vietnam War... Maybe it could give us information."

"Hm... Ok, whatever. I need somethin' ta take my mind off all this bullshit."

The Comedian crouched down over the blue unicorn and retrieved the medkit and the bottle of whiskey from his vest. He opened the box; inside was a variety of medical tools and equipment, neatly placed inside in an organized manner - ever since and during his time in the Vietnam War, he'd made sure to keep a kit as organized as possible so combat medicing could be done as quickly and efficiently as possible. With his black-gloved hoof, he selected a brown packet of US military-grade bandages - now, he could get to work.

First, he went about bandaging the nasty-looking wounds, pouring a little bit of whiskey on it first to clean it, then wrapping an olive-green bandage around it. Next, he retrieved a rag from the kit, dampening it with the last of his whiskey (to his disappointment), and wiped at the unicorn's coat to clean it until it radiated a brilliant azure, with not a single bloodstain or speck of grime or dirt to mar its sheen. He stood up on all fours and looked down upon his work, satisfied.

"Hm. Done the best I can do; 'd be better if I could get it to a hospital, though."

He looked back at the cart.

"Well, don't wanna carry it the whole way towards... _Ponyville... I think, assuming it's got a hospital which it probably does... and assuming the magician wasn't completely batshit insane, or joking... Ponyville... _that sounds so much like a goddamn child's joke..." he grumbled under his breath, tapping his chin with a hoof.

The mask pointed towards the cart.

"Hm. Sure, yeah, guess that'll work." Blake took the unicorn's body, lifted it up with one hoof, and clumsily shoved it inside the cart through what appeared to be a window. From close up, it appeared to be just how it had appeared from a distance - a simple yellow box with a red roof, mounted on top of a platform with wooden-spoked wheels. The only thing that actually revealed itself to him, really, was a wooden sign that dangled from the roof, bearing, on one side, an emblem - he guessed - of a crescent moon and the form of a star mounted upon a short wand. _Ugh. Possible Muslim... except it's a horse. And it was speaking English. _On the other side, in ornate, silvery letters, was printed the text "The Great & Powerful Trixie Lulamoon: Traveling Magician". _Heh. Well, not much Arabic there, but... a traveling entertainer, huh… but who the hell calls herself 'Trixie Lulamoon'?_

Suddenly, Blake found his eyes gazing upon a breastcollar. It took a moment for the situation come back to him.

"No, no, no no... I ain't gonna pull that cart..."

"No."

"You pull it, Rorschach," he grumbled.

"No."

Rorschach found himself being violently yanked over to the cart; as he stumbled back and forth, reeling from the sudden motion, a breastcollar fell over him.

"Pull it."

The mask muttered a muffled string of insults under his breath as he began to push against the breastcollar, realising he could pull the cart forward quite easily. He didn't like this. But he didn't feel like fighting Blake and getting himself and Blake injured for that stupid reason. Wouldn't make sense.

Their trek alongside each other down the dirt road was quiet, for the most part. The only sounds that interrupted the silence were the clip-clop of hooves down the dirt path, the rumbling of the rickety wagon, and the background forest static of leaves rustling and chirping birds off in the distance. It was quiet - that is - until the unicorn woke up.

* * *

Ever since that little "Magic Duel" (as she liked to term it) incident in Ponyville, Trixie had been leading a rough life. The entertainment business was already not going well for her - _hay_, it might as well have been _nonexistent_; news spread quickly of her first incident in Ponyville, where some of her... _less intelligent..._ fans had brought an Ursa Minor for her to defeat after she'd claimed (as part of her show) to have defeated one before - except of course, she'd never even _fought_ one before. So, of course, it almost resulted in the destruction of the tiny hamlet. Luckily, Twilight was there to save the village. Well, how the _bucking hay_ could she have known there was an Ursa cave within easy access? Seriously, _who _builds a town right next to an _Ursa _cave?

And then she thought she'd just move on to the next town… it was her _passion_, all she _ever _wanted to do her entire life, to hear the applause, the laughs, the hoofstomps of enchanted audiences - everything she dreamed about as a filly… But now… shunned, jeered at, booed... chased right out! Labeled a "fake" (what the _hay _do those foals even think stage magicians do) and a fraud and "the mare who brought an Ursa Minor to Ponyville" (it wasn't her fault her fans were dumb enough to do that)... and to think, even her own hometown, Hoofington - all her old friends - her parents - all the fillies and colts she'd grown up with - every single one of them, turning away, acting like they didn't even know her... it burned away at her heart like acid… and she was forced to live under a mask, using her magic to disguise herself as another pony whenever she wanted to get into a town. Bits ran low, and soon enough, she had been reduced to scouring the Everfree Forest floor or the dregs of Canterlot secretly at night for food - she had to develop a taste for _fir needles_, for Celestia's sake. She had to work on a _rock farm_!

...And then there was the second incident. And _buck_, that was bad. As if she weren't "living on the edge" already.

During her time down in the dumps, Trixie'd fostered a sort of blind hate for Twilight Sparkle and her companions; now, she wasn't even sure why she did it, but she actually wasted two _bucking _years on amassing a ridiculous amount of bits to _buy_ the _Alicorn Amulet_ so she could exact "revenge" on Ponyville. Because it made so much sense. So, she got her magical amulet, _took over Ponyville _in an act of massive ancient-curse-induced-stupidity (it basically meant she was committing treason against Celestia), and banished Twilight Sparkle, only to be defeated again by the unicorn with _magic_ as her special talent… and threatening that she could take over all of Equestria... _duh_… stupid, stupid amulet.

Anyways, now she was a full-fledged _war criminal_ in the eyes of the Equestrian government, so the safest place she could be was, ironically, deep in the center of the Everfree Forest… which most ponies (and she, as well, at one point) considered the most dangerous place in all of Equestria. and just when she thought life couldn't get any worse, eating pine nuts and fir needles and constantly living in fear of being brutally murdered by a manticore or one of the Equestrian Guard or becoming one of the stone statues decorating the deep forest at the eyes of a hydra, she just _had _to run into that pack of timberwolves. Sharp claws, branched antlers, ghostly green eyes... and the _odor. Oh, Celestia. The odor._

After that, all she could recount was... running for her life, her new cart… that she had just rebuilt as a testament to what her life could've been... and the wolves following her. Hurtling and galloping over branches. One wrong move means death. No thinking, just running. Thorns sliced into her face and her hooves, a razor-wire maze of branches she pushed out of her way, and the wind stung her face, but she barely noticed - they were all numb sensations, seeming to be more like distant aches, the actual pain blocked by the adrenaline pumping through her body. Then nothing, apart from a vague memory of wanting to head to Ponyville, which happened to be the nearest town. Black.

Until now.

The brilliant azure unicorn tossed and turned in her sleep as she finished reliving her recent experiences and came into the waking world; the warm covers of her bed draped beneath her form did little to comfort her aching body, the pain aggravated by an uneven rumbling below. _Aghhh... bad morning. Covers… bed… rumbling... what the hay? _

Her eyes shot open.

The slanted, red-paint ceiling of her cart stretched over her.

_...ugh. At least the timberwolves didn't kill Trixie. But... if Trixie's in her cart… She must have been put here, but by whom? The cart is moving… pulled… but that means a pony might have found Trixie… and Trixie's a wanted criminal… well, she shall ask. _

_A_s she got up with a grunt and stood inside the cart, bleary eyes noticed the olive-green… _bandages_, _probably_, wrapped all around her arm and her legs, restricting some of her movement and numbing the pain that stung recalled the thorns and the branches._ Better not take them off. _On her left hung a partially-torn lavender cloak and a partially-crushed pointed hat from a wooden rack. As she trotted past them and to the window of her cart, stars printed on the cloak and hat twinkled bright out of the corner of her eye.

Trixie peered out of the window; through it, she could barely see a moving brown form under the blinding sunlight, and upon closer inspection, said form seemed to be pulling the cart along with a bored gait... It was definitely a pony, but it was wearing quite an eccentric choice of clothes - a striped fedora and a trench coat made of a strange material, _like in those old detective movies,_ and it gave off an odor similar to that of the dumpsters in lower Canterlot; from below the fedora, around the neck was a white material, though it seemed to be less like a natural pony coat than a cloth mask. Apart from this, she couldn't tell much.

Carefully, she stuck her head further out of the window and shifted her gaze to what appeared to be another pony, trotting alongside the former one, except in a much easier manner.. It was much more revealed, with plenty of its actual, bronze coat and its scruffy, black mane showing, though most was still concealed by a thick, black vest and the painted metal shoulderpads strapped over it. It did not share the same odor as the former; instead, it carried a smell vaguely reminiscent of some of the... _what was it again? alcoholic_ drinks that she discovered being brewed and sold in the Canterlot criminal underworld. She could confess to herself to drinking - but just a little bit - of course - the drinks prohibited by Princess Celestia's decree itself. On that subject, both of these ponies did seem... well, quite _shady._

Turning back to the masked pony, she cleared her throat.

"...Ahem... the Great and Powerful Trixie... wishes to know where she is being carried..." she tentatively asked, her voice quivering, partially from prior fear, partially from faultily-concealed pain, and partially due to the cart's movement.

A muffled, gruff voice released an angry mumble under its breath. "...Wherever road leads; you mentioned… a 'Ponyville'... earlier. Presumably, a hospital," it replied. It didn't seem to like her very much; the pony didn't even turn to address her. He just kept on trotting forwards, with the cart's breastcollar around him.

Well, that was a _hay_ of a relief.

"Ey! Rorschach! The magician awake yet?" the other pony, with a noticeably deeper voice, shouted from off to the side. Above the pony's muzzle was slipped a black domino mask; next to his muzzle, a bloody scar which drove his mouth up into a permanent sneer tearing down his face. "I'd thought of a couple 'a questions I'd like ta ask it," he said, trotting up next to the cart. Trixie paled at this. Was it something to do with the Alicorn Amulet incident? _...What's 'goddamn', anyways?_

"...Second question unanswered until you can answer some of our own."

_Neither of them are unicorns_... well, Trixie already knew an easy way out of this situation. But Trixie also knew that any piece of information she could obtain in conversation might serve her well later. Best to stick around; nothing much to lose, really, except her new cart, but that could be replaced.

"The Great and Powerful Trixie... will allow you to ask her... _a couple_... of questions."

"'Kay. Firstly, what country is this?"

_What?_

"Uhm... Equestria."

Both ponies looked at each other; a furrowed brow scrunched through the domino mask, but nothing could be said of the other, fedora-hatted pony, whose face was covered by an unrevealing white-cloth mask - what intrigued (and unnerved) her most were the mysterious, inkblot-like forms shifting upon it.

Well, now these two looked really sketchy. _But why don't they know what Equestria is? It's pretty much the most influential country on this planet, and the only one out of four to boot._

"Right… secondly... okay, just for the record, do ya know any… methods of interplanetary transportation, and do ya happen to have access to a rocket ship or some other vehicle which allows for space travel?"

_What in the actual hay?_

"Wha… no..?"

The domino-masked pony gave off something that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a sigh. "Heh. Goddamn it. Veidt's gonna get away with killing millions of people since there ain't gon' be shit ta do with it out here-"

"Wait. Have associates who would know about interplanetary transportation...?" the white-cloth mask's gravelly voice interrupted.

"Um… Huh... Well, actually, The Great and Powerful Trixie _does _happen to know a unicorn, luckily for you." The white-cloth mask's ears raised in interest. "Twilight Sparkle. She lives in the Ponyville library…" (The domino-masked pony's eyes widened, his cheeks inflated, and he put a hoof to his mouth as he treaded along; out from behind it a muffled giggle found its way) "...where you seem to be headed," she said.

The domino-masked pony exploded in a hoarse sort of laughter; his hoof dropped from his mouth.. "PEhehehe… THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE… TWILIGHT SPARKLE?! WHAT KIND OF PARENT COMES UP WITH THESE NAMES... Eheheh… Great, now I'm stuck in this fuckin' drug trip... or planet where all the horses can talk and have weird-ass names..."

"...Trixie doesn't get it... Twilight's and Trixie's are perfectly normal names."

"Yeah, sure they are. Ohh, I needed that to get out of all that Veidt shit completely. Might be the best drugs I've ever been on. Or the best planet I've ever been to. Goddamn."

"Heh. The Great and Powerful Trixie would like to hear _your_ name." the azure unicorn growled weakly.

"Eheheh," the domino-masked pony wiped a tear off his muzzle, "It's Edward Blake, but most call me The Comedian."

"Edward Blake? Now _THAT'S _a strange name," she said.

"Speak for yourself, Trixie _Lulamoon_," he jeered.

"What's wrong with The Great and Powerful Trixie's name?" she shot back, butting her head against the Comedian's from the window.

"Well, it's batshit silly, that's what. Don't take a genius to figure that out."

"You know, for a 'Comedian', you're not very funny."

"Alright, shut up," the fedora-hatted pony intervened, pushing the two of them apart.

"and... Trixie wishes to know what YOUR name is?"

"...Rorschach… Care to lead us to this... 'Twilight Sparkle', once we're in... '_Ponyville_'?" Rorschach asked.

Trixie humphed. "Now why would the Great and Powerful Trixie oblige your request?"

"None of your business."

"Why?"

"Can see what would become of it already."

"Well, if you want to get anywhere, you're just going to have to tell Trixie why."

*CLANG*

Rorschach stopped the cart and turned around, spotting the blue unicorn's head dangling limply out of the window frame with dizzy eyes, stars circling above its head, which was now bruised on one side. He looked at the Comedian accusingly. The Comedian shrugged.

"What? She was really getting on my nerves."

Rorschach shook his head. The two continued onwards.

* * *

The two vigilantes-turned-ponies stood upon a ridge of dirt; behind them, a tall house/cart, an attached breastcollar latched around one of the ponies. Out of the cart's window, a blue unicorn's head lifted itself, and its eyes widened at the sight of something very familiar. The vigilantes were both quite awestruck as they surveyed the area - far in front of them sat a quaint little (at least by the vigilantes' standards) village, little thatch-roofed houses with plaster walls and wooden frames gathered together into a small cluster, trees dotting the area. A grain windmill/waterwheel sat off to the right side of the village, a creek passing below the waterwheel and traveling under a pink bridge which lay ahead on their path.

But the inhabitants of this village weren't humans… they were _ponies_. Unusual ones. Even from this distance, the two vigilantes could watch ponies go about their business, ponies of all colors and kinds, everything from hot pink Earth ponies (as Trixie corrected) to aqua-green unicorns to bright yellow pegasi. (The Comedian began chuckling again.)

Rorschach looked up, somewhat lethargic from pulling Trixie's cart for so long. Overlooking the village was a ring of mighty, guarding mountains, black mounds stretching high up into the now-bright yellow sky, the orange sun laying low near the horizon. On one of the mountains, the masked vigilante could faintly make out the image of… _a castle, maybe? Hurm. Remember to investigate if chance gotten._

The Comedian looked back; not so far away, in contrast to the tall mountains, they had traversed rolling hills, dotted with thousands upon thousands of apple trees, a red barn standing tall in the middle of the orchard. He turned back to the town that sat before them.

"So… this is… 'Ponyville'."


	3. Ponyville

**I don't own MLP:FiM, Hasbro does. I don't own Watchmen; Alan Moore/DC Comics does. This is my first fanfic. This chapter was written on my Android; excuse typos. Big thank you to those who are following; sorry for the long wait; I've got a lot of school stuff going on. Don't forget to rate and review, it is really appreciated. Get some big headcanon magic science below (I turn Trixie into a magic textbook!) (Updated again for a little bit of Season 4 adjustment.)**

* * *

As the vigilantes strode through Ponyville streets, lit by the golden light of a pink-yellow afternoon sky stretching above them, the wooden cart dragging back against the Comedian as he trotted forward - it was decided that Rorschach had done enough pulling, the Comedian agreeing to pull the cart for the rest of the route with some reluctance - and Trixie now curled up in a ball inside her cart - "The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn't feel well," she said - the vigilantes-turned-ponies found surprises every corner they turned.

Apart from the fact that inhabitants of the town were not humans but instead absurdly colorful horses - the vigilantes noticed something unfamiliar; strange, about the townspeople - in the ponies' unnaturally large eyes was_… a shine, a gleam, perhaps,_ of something rarely seen in the now-destroyed New York, because among those many faces of New York, of men and women, there was always one thing the vigilantes saw in common - what was _normal, _what was _regular _- and that was the essence of corruption, lust, and greed - behind every face, every _mask_ in New York, some sort of evil was hiding... but that evil didn't exist here, and neither vigilante could point out what existed in place.

Lively chatter of unicorns, pegasi, and Earth ponies streamed through the air, some conversing in leisure, many talking together while they were working; the laughter and giggles of foals playing together rang down the streets of Ponyville. Some of the ponies gave the vigilantes' costumes strange glances, but they were far from unfriendly, and nowhere as bad as the vitriol they received from the inhabitants of New York City during the police strike protests or the violence and hate they received for their - _some would say brutal, maybe, merciless_ - methods of dealing with their city's crime.

To Rorschach, the work of dealing with crime was... well, work. Nobody _liked_ what you did and everybody _hated _you for doing it, but at the same time it was a job that _had_ to be done, for the sake of justice. Wake up in the morning. Buy and eat your three meals. Put on your costume. Stalk alleys and kill criminals, or at least break their arms in half to make sure they got the point that they weren't supposed to be doing whatever they were doing. To the Comedian... it was just _fun_. It was an excuse to kill people, and an excuse to kill people in the most hilarious, cheesy, yet painful ways his mind could conceive.

It was for these reasons that the two harbored slight enmity between each other; Rorschach didn't like the Comedian's "wanton violence" - "Heh, look at the pot callin' the kettle black," Blake retorted - and the Comedian didn't like how Rorschach took his job so seriously, especially when in the end all his actions would be for nothing, only killing a few hundred criminals in a world of millions... then dying, as all do, and dying as all vigilantes died - violently. That wasn't to say they didn't share a partnership. The two shared a special bond in their ways of vigilantism, and both of them felt a kinship with each other with their real understanding of the _real _world, unlike that of the _otber vigilantes' _- even despite their different interpretations of that understanding.

They turned into a square enclosed by a ring of wooden merchant stands, red-and-white-striped awnings stretched over each stand, crowds of colorful ponies standing below, haggling with the purveyors over the price of an apple or a little silver trinket, their bargaining voices forming a bustling buzz around the marketplace. The Comedian curiously watched a blue aura appear around a cyan unicorn's horn and another around a few stalks of celery hovering in the air… _levitation? No… yes… It's levitation. Like, actual levitation._

She carefully floated her recently-earned prizes - a few stalks of celery - over her head and into a canvas bag that hung by her side. The concept of levitation wasn't entirely foreign to the Comedian, but he'd never seen anybody but Doctor Manhattan do it for real until today.

* * *

"Shit, Rorschach, didya see that? That one just walked right up ta us... said 'afternoon'..." the Comedian said.

"Don't like this place. Suspicious," Rorschach said.

"...well, whaddya mean by that?"

"Know these places. Looks friendly, harmless, innocuous on the surface... but in my experience? As soon as you start dissecting it with a knife... all filth and guts on inside start showing."

"...that's a hell of a conclusion ta jump to, Rory. I mean, I served in the Vietnam War for twelve years, an' I can tell ya there's some fucked up shit on Earth... but we're on a different planet now, y'know. Different societies-"

"It's not a conclusion. Simply suggesting possibility."

* * *

"Afternoon!" an orange mare waved a hoof at Rorschach, a brown Stetson tipped over her head and a _ponytail _- _heh_ - of blonde hair dangling out of it.

"..." Rorschach was caught off-guard. n all his years of vigilantism, Rorschach couldn't remember the last time he'd received a greeting - a gesture of friendliness - from a New York civilian.

"Erm... Nice ta meet ya!" the mare said.

"..."

"Ahem... Haven't seen ya in town before. Welcome ta Ponyville!" the mare extended a hoof. Rorschach reluctantly lent his as well.

"Hrrmm- HurMF!" The orange hoof's grip wrapped around his, and it began to shake it up and down vigorously, as though the mare were using all the strength in her arm she could muster. Rorschach immediately pulled his hoof away from hers. "...Hurm..."

"Eheheh…" she sheepishly chucked, "sorry 'bout that. Well, the name's Applejack. Pleased ta meet ya."

"..."

"Er, nice weather our; how's yer day goin'?" she asked, trotting up next to the trench coat, a pleasant smile on her face (her nose wrinkling slightly at Rorschach's foul smell).

"Currently on way to hospital."

"Ah."

"Know quickest way there?" he asked.

"Aw, sure! Just head past Davenport's Quills n' Sofas down... that there street," she said, pointing her hoof off to his left at a little thatch-roofed shop, a sign with a quill and a sofa hanging above its door as they approached an intersection, "it'll take you straight ta Ponyville Hospital-"

Rorschach veered off to the left with an agitated grunt; he did not seem to express any intention of talking with the mare. The Comedian turned as abruptly as Rorschach in quick succession, the cart wheels skidding on the ground, kicking up dirt. A muffled yelp (whose voice seemed quite familiar to Applejack for some reason, but she couldn't exactly point it out) could be heard from inside.

_"Huh. That was kinda rude. Eh. Probably was the hoofshake. But he didn't even tell me his name. Wonder what he was all hushed up 'bout."_

Rorschach moved at a brisk, agitated trot down the rest of the lane, not stopping at the merchant's calls towards him as display cases and canvas-roofed stalls raced past.

_Need to get out of here. Place too strange. Too... friendly. Too innocent. Suspicious. There has to be something behind this. Some sort of trick. An act, maybe? Possible. _Rorschach left with this in his mind, and as he trotted, streets of cobblestone soon gave way to dirt path, and the merchant stalls gave way to lines of trees once more - they were in a forest again - the outskirts of the city.

"...Pffffft… Eheheheh…" the Comedian burst out, chuckling, "...eheheh… I love the way ya just… pfft… ignored everythin' she said… Ehhh..." Rorschach gave Blake a strange glance, and slowly, the Comedian's deep, breathy laughter fell beneath Rorschach's now somewhat unsteady hoofsteps and the sounds of the cart's wooden wheels, making a steady _rikkity-rikkity _noise.

"Ahem. Alright, so here's the deal, magician. We get ya to the hospital so you can get proper medical attention. Then ya take us to the unicorn... Twilight Twinkle or somethin'."

A rustle of cloth and wooden bumps could be heard inside the cart. Trixie leaned her bruised head out of the cart and nodded lethargically_._

" Ah... Ya gonna handle the medical bills?"

"Huh?... Ponyville Hospital's government-funded," she stated drowsily.

"Ah."

"Why did you bash Trixie over the head..." she asked.

"'Cuz you were gettin' annoyin'."

"WHAT?!"

"I didn't like your voice. It's just really annoyin'."

"Sure, maybe you dislike the sound of the Great and Powerful Trixie's voice - you're- but you don't just knock a pony out for _that_!" Trixie yelled indignantly.

"...I don't see the problem here. Look, Trixie, I done plenty 'a worse things in my life for no reason at all. We both done plenty 'a bad things. Consider yourself lucky that you're not dead yet."

"You don't see a problem… with…"

"Yep. Like I said, done plenty of worse things in my life."

"...Like… what?" Trixie asked, her voice hesitating as she doubted whether she really wanted to know.

"Let's see," _Oh, time ta have a little fun here. These ponies must be so unaccustomed ta violence... heh. _"killed a 'couple a kids an' all kinds 'a others, bashed more skulls in, broke more legs than you can count, killed a few prisoners-of-war ona bet..." he grinned at the horrified expression he saw on the blue mare's face.

"...I really hope you're joking. Who the hay _raised _you?! Even Trixie can't think of something like that, and she's spent a year hiding in the _dumps _of _Canterlot_!"

"Nobody."

"Oh." Trixie hung her head in guilt for a moment, "but that still doesn't... you're joking, right?"

_Well, actually, that was kinda screwed up ta say to a civilian. _"I am," he said. He wasn't.

"So… _Trixie_…"

The traveling magician leaned her head out of the cart's window once more.

"pehehe… So... _shit, I think I've gone delirious, so much random shit goin' on_... so, anyways… why were ya hiding inside that cart? I noticed… you got all quiet all of a sudden once we got in town…"

"Oh. Eheheh... well... erm... uh... let's just say that the Great and Powerful Trixie isn't on the best of terms with Ponyville right now."

"Huh," the Comedian nodded, seemingly understandingly (though the blue unicorn couldn't determine if this was just a ruse to get her to say more), "..."

"She doesn't want to talk about it," she said.

"...Hm. 'Kay then. Uh, just wanna know, why do you always talk in the third person?"

"Oh," Trixie said, "well, I can talk in the first person if I feel like it... hm... It's a habit the Great and Powerful Trixie picked up when she was just a filly, just starting to do her magic show," she waved her hoof, relieved that she could get outside of that _other_ _subject_ rather quickly. The Comedian nodded, and she began to hang her head out of the window lazily, staring into the distance. Her head suddenly perked up.

"...You're _really_ not from around here, are you?" she said.

"...Well, whaddya think?"

"Your name, the way you react to ponies, the fact you don't seem to know anything about Equestria at all, the fact you want to find a method of space travel..." Trixie's eyes widened at her own revelation.

"Yeah..." the Comedian sighed, "fine. Yeah. We're not from here. We're... actually from a different planet, we'll say... to you..."

"Aliens?"

"Yep. That's funny… When I was a kid, I always thought of aliens like the weird little green men from the comics... but I never thought I'd ever be called an alien myself," he looked up thoughtfully.

"Men?" she asked, skeptically.

"Oh... right... see... damn, I'm still tryin' ta figure it all out... before we came here, we were humans - men, about twice the height of ponies, stood on only two legs, with arms... and hands... Hehe, I miss those..."

Trixie tried as hard as she could to visualize such a creature. She'd heard of similar things from the slightly-crazy Lyra Heartstrings (or everyone thought so), as well as a few rumors going around the now _Princess_ Twilight Sparkle. "You're not joking?"

"No, but I ain't thinkin' you'd believe me." The Comedian said this, but nothing more - both turned away and kept to themselves for the rest of the trip.

* * *

Eventually, after plenty of walking, the three found themselves in front of a tall, stately structure sitting in the middle of the forest for no apparent reason - _"Like somebody had decided to build a hospital and airdrop into a clearing that vaguely looked like the proper size and make a path to it from Ponyville," _ the Comedian thought.

The dirt path before them wound and twisted around a white sign bearing the design of an ornate white cross against a red circle, leading up to the entrance of the building - a small, unassuming green door beneath a wooden awning. The building itself was mostly like the other houses of Ponyville - plaster walls and wood frame interspersed by a few tall glass windows - excepting the building's greater size and the fact that this building was not thatch-roofed like those in Ponyville, but instead wooden shingles composed the roof.

Inside the hospital, however, was a much different story. As the pony doctors quickly wheeled Trixie on a gurney into a room without any fuss but with only a quick nod to the two and a strange glance at the Comedian in particular, Rorschach and Blake found themselves sitting on blue plastic chairs on metal legs, across from a forest-green pony slumped in another chair, snoring. The tall room was rather stark compared to the outside. A pale green-checkered floor sat beneath them, and faintly-turquoise drywall stretched all around them. _"Strange color scheme," _Rorschach remarked. The only things that broke the lack of decoration were a simple clock, marking the seconds with ticks as they passed by, a glass window revealing little more than the dirt path and the sun above it, and a squat glass table with newspapers and magazines sitting in the center. _"Just like every other hospital."_

"Hey," the Comedian said, getting up on all fours and tapping the sleeping pony on the shoulder.

"zzzzz..." the pony kept on snoring.

"...Right, well, guess it's just you and me, Rorschach," he said, returning to his seat.

"Hurmf."

"So, tell me more 'bout how ya got here?"

Rorschach looked up in recollection. "...Veidt was running operations from Karnak," The Comedian gave him a questioning look, "his base in Antarctica. When we arrived..." Rorschach shook his head, "...already too late. Thirty-five minutes too late. Veidt had already triggered it. All this time, the 'energy' program he had been working on with Manhattan?"

Blake nodded. "That is what it really was. He showed us... he thought it had created world peace... all the world was teaming against Manhattan... but what is the purpose if it is all a lie? But all the others, Dan, Silk, Manhattan, in their weakness, softness, gave in and chose to keep quiet... I chose to tell truth to public... keep them from living a horrible lie for rest of history, and I would have," his gravelly, monotone voice became saturated with anger, "if it were not for Manhattan."

The Comedian nodded thoughtfully; he reached for a cigar and lighter in his leather vest, but found none, to his dismay. "Y' know what, Rorschach? If and when we get back ta Earth... I'll let ya have the pleasure of stranglin' Veidt. And we'll find a way ta kill Manhattan."

Rorschach did not reply.

"But while we're here... I guess we better start makin' a plan," the Comedian said.

"Hrmph."

"What I'm thinkin' is... we find this 'Twilight Twinkle' guy, maybe see if he... or she... can help us with this gettin' back ta Earth thing. And if we can't... I don't know. S'pose we could get some jobs here... or... ya wanna do some old-fashioned underground crimebustin'? Before all that government Vietnam War shit I got wrapped up in... Find a city, start bashin' in criminal skulls and shootin' guys beneath government radar… Just for ol' times sakes?"

"We _will_ get back to Earth. Veidt needs punishment."

"Yeah, 'course, but ya'd think Manhattan'd send us somewhere where we couldn't interfere; I'm starting ta doubt we'd be able ta get back really… we really oughta be makin' plans ta stay here. That's why I'm thinkin', we got the skills, we could make a livin' for our own doin' some of that underground crimebustin' stuff ya used to…"

"Your weapons are too loud."

"Oh, c'mon, Rorschach, you know 'bout the punches I throw. I can work without my guns."

"You're still too loud."

"Look, Rory, just because I always come inta places guns blazin' an' all, doesn't mean I ain't capable of bein' stealthy sometimes."

"You lack experience in the matter. Your only experience comes from street brawls, gang fights, and wars. Not mine."

"Heh… yeah, guess there's some room for learning… Y'know, I seen the way ya take your salary off those thugs... man, heh, that's pretty creative. Hey... ya got your journal with ya?"

"No. Left it on Earth, in hopes truth will get out. But I fear it may not be able to."

"Mm."

Slowly, the hours went by, and the Comedian and Rorschach began to grow tired of exchanging glances and stares with each other and trying to get the sleeping pony at the other end of the room to wake up and start a conversation. Sure, they could wait for days on end if it was needed, but when there's something else to do... the Comedian reached his hoof out and seized a newspaper from the glass table. "American newspaper's always been bullshit ever since the beginning of the Cold War," he said as he unfurled the newspaper, "this'll be a nice break…" He took a brief glance over it, his eyes quickly taking in bold-lettered headlines.

**THE FOAL FREE PRESS - Ponyville's #1 Source Of News!**

_Jesus Christ, what have I picked up... is everything here a coincidental pun?_

**CANTERLOT, MANEHATTEN CRIME RATE ON STEEP INCREASE**

_Heh. We can help with that. Just give me a baseball bat and give Rorschach... well, anything, really - that guy's really resourceful, even if he's slightly insane - hell, I bet he could turn a pillow into a deadly weapon if that was all he could use in a fight. Throw us in front of a couple of thugs, murderers. Watch 'em all drop dead._

**LONGTIME WORLD APPLEBUCKING CHAMPION SETS NEW RECORD**

…_What the hell is applebucking?_

**PONYVILLE FASHION THROUGH THE-**

_No._

**TWILIGHT SPARKLE CROWNED NEW PRINCESS, SOLVES EVERFREE MYSTERY**

The Comedian blinked.

_Isn't that the unicorn Trixie said could help us get back ta Earth? She's a princess now?_

He began reading the smaller font below. "Ey, Rorschach. Y' know 'bout that gettin' back ta Earth thing? Guess we're goin' ta see a _Princess Twilight Sparkle_ right after Trixie's outta here." He flopped the newspaper back down on the table before him.

He heard the approaching sound of footsteps- _hoofsteps _from the hallway outside the waiting room. Into the room stepped the familiar azure unicorn, now wrapped in clean white gauze rather than olive military bandages.

"How'd it go?" Blake asked.

"Cuts, minor lacerations, wounds, scratches, but nothing modern healing magic couldn't alleviate. The doctors said you did a pretty good job fixing Trixie up out there in the forest."

"Modern healing magic?" Rorschach asked in curiosity.

"Yep! Unicorn healing magic's gotten much better in the past few decades; we've been able to treat diseases and fix up wounds much better than we've used to- oh, that's right... you probably don't know very much about magic...?"

"Not much."

"Well, just sit right here, and the Great and All-Knowledgeable Trixie shall enlighten you," Trixie began, feeling a bit like _Princess_ Twilight Sparkle herself as she recalled all that she eagerly learned about magic from her filly days, "all ponies are able to absorb the energy of this 'field' that surrounds Equestria - a magic field -" Pink magic began to glow around Trixie's horn, and a chalkboard appeared behind her; she levitated a piece of chalk and started writing on the board - "and use it in different ways. See, this is where we can start talking about races. Earth ponies like you" (she put her hoof out at a rough drawing of an Earth pony appearing on the chalkboard) "passively absorb magic from the field into their body-"

"I'm not actually an 'Earth pony'..." Rorschach interrupted.

"Let me guess... Pegasus?"

"...yes."

The Comedian stifled a chuckle.

"Right. Anyways. Their bodies use it to improve bodily functions - Earth ponies have greatly increased strength, stamina, metabolism, reflex speed, are able to handle toxins better, et cetera. Some Earth ponies are also able to channel their magic into improving the skill of growing plants. This is why many heavy laborers and farmers are Earth ponies.

Pegasi - and the less common batponies - passively absorb magic from the field as well, except their bodies tend to channel most of it into their wings - though some is used on their bodies to give them protection against the effects of air resistance, giving them heavily increased agility and the ability to reach supersonic, and in one recorded instance - faster than light speeds,"

The Comedian raised an eyebrow at this - "You mean pegasi can travel fast enough ta time travel?" He'd heard concepts for FTL travel from Veidt before, but never seen it put into practice by anyone except Doctor Manhattan.

"Yes. But it's only happened once, with a pony named Swift Star. See, he was a medical anomaly - his body redirected all magic he absorbed into his wings - and a chromosome abnormality from his mother's overexposure to chaos magic caused his body to absorb magic at a rate twice the rate of other ponies... and caused his body to be twice as fragile as other ponies'. This allowed him to fly at ridiculous speeds, but it had an... _inversely proportional _effect on his well-being, and when he decided to fly faster than light and travel through time... well, let us say cleanup wasn't pretty. Anyways, there aren't any pegasi like that anymore in Equestria, since the god of chaos - Discord - has been defeated. Twilight Sparkle - the _alicorn _you want to see - played an important part in his defeat, and is actually turning out to play an important part in current history. Those who work in delivery and communications services tend to be pegasi.

Now, as for unicorns like the Great and Powerful Trixie herself - well, this is where it gets interesting. Unicorns have the unique ability to gather magic both passively and voluntarily, and channel it through their horns for just about any use you can think of - but, of course, magic technology hasn't advanced far enough to even come close to allowing ponies to mimic the abilities of Earth ponies and pegasi. Most unicorns are capable of doing basic levitation spells, and anything that relates to their talents - a unicorn with baking as a talent may learn a spell that allows him/her to instantly combine ingredients into a fully-baked pie, et cetera. Now, with those who were like Twilight Sparkle who used to be a unicorn - but Trixie found out she's recently become an alicorn now - Twilight's talent _is_ magic... hehe, she's capable of about anything you can think of. Teleportation, transmutation, time travel... the list goes on and on."

"The mark on your... flank," Blake asked, making sure he'd found the right word, "...does it have something to do with your talent?"

"Yes, that's... Trixie's cutie mark. Ponies get them when they discover their special talent."

"..._cutie mark_... Right."

"...And there are alicorns - royalty, and, to some, deities, which have the abilities of all three races. There are currently only four known alicorns in existence - Princess Celestia - Princess of the Sun, Princess Luna - Princess of the Moon, Princess Cadence - Princess of Love, and Princess Twilight Sparkle - the newest one - the Princess of Friendship and Magic."

"Wow... Trixie… I knew you could put on a good show on a dime, but… I didn't know you could break into my style of mini-lecture on magic just like that!" a familiar voice said. Trixie's eyes shot wide open. She turned towards the voice.

"...Pr-Princess Twilight?"

"That's who you're looking at. Rainbow Dash got into one of her crashes again, so I came here to check up on her. She's still hooked on Daring Doo books, hehe. I'm surprised to see _you_ here, really," the lavender alicorn replied, wings furled at her side. She did not like wearing her crown or her royal dress at non-formal occasions, and so often kept them at her library.

"You're… not going to arrest Trixie?"

"Ehhh what?"

"You know, with the Alicorn Amulet thing…"

"Oh, _that_? Pretty much everypony in Ponyville's forgotten about that."

"Wait, so Celestia and the Equestrian Guard are off The Great and Powerful Trixie's tail?"

"Actually, no, but I bet I can make some arrangements for you - a royal arrangement, from Princess Twilight herself, hehe…"

"Oh… um… I don't know what to say, hehe… that's, um, very nice of you, Twilight..." Trixie stuttered, for a moment losing her characteristic third-person speech in abashedness at Twilight's offer.

"Say, what are these... two doing here?" Twilight asked, examining the vigilantes' _eccentric_ costumes with a strange look on her face.

"Oh. Um. Twilight, meet Rorschach and the Comedian. Rorschach, Comedian, meet Princess Twilight Sparkle. Smartest pony Trixie knows - possibly the smartest pony in Equestria, even smarter than the Great and Powerful Trixie herself, maybe, hehe. If anypony can help you with your problem and it's not Trixie, it's her."

The Comedian extended a hoof; Twilight shook it. "Pleasure ta meet ya, Princess."

"The pleasure is mine. I haven't seen you around town before, so, welcome," Twilight said.

"Thank you."

"and Trixie, why _are_ you here? Haven't seen you around Ponyville for a while…" Twilight eyed the white gauze wrapped around Trixie's limbs, "...Jeez, what happened?"

"Trixie had a little run-in with some _timber wolves; g_ot out with some pretty dangerous wounds, but luckily these two happened to be around." Trixie gestured to the vigilantes as Twilight nodded. "Trixie's here, alive, because of them, but they want to know something..." Trixie continued, Twilight raising her head in interest, "They say they're from a different planet," Trixie said. Twilight tilted her head, and her brow raised in curiosity.

"We need a way back;" Rorschach said, "the magician told us that you could help us get back home… to Earth, to our home planet."

"Well, I think I should be thanking you for saving my friend," (a faint pink blush came to Trixie's cheek as she heard Twilight call her a friend), "But… _Trixie… this isn't a joke, right?_" she leaned her head over to Trixie.

"Not as far as The Great and Powerful Trixie can tell."

"They're ponies."

"Supposedly, they weren't always ponies," Trixie shrugged.

"Hmm…_ It sounds absurd… but always consider possibilities, Twilight…_ Well, I'll let you know what I can tell you about the subject. It's the least I can do for your saving Trixie. First, we'd need to know where your planet is - we're going to try narrowing down a location. I've always wanted a scenario like this, because I get to do something pret-ty cool." Her horn lit up with magenta magic. "Stand back."

In the middle of the stark waiting room, with the sound of an _explosion_, a cloud of midnight-blue darkness appeared, followed by countless, blurry dots of white, floating in the empty cloud. "Trixie, can you apply a lens spell?" A bubble of pink magic formed around Trixie's horn, and the blurred dots of white became… tiny, individual star systems, with their own little planets floating around them. The Comedian trotted up to the display, and he eyed one of the stars carefully, watching the ball of burning gas rotating and flaring with heat. Suddenly, the ball began to shrink rapidly, and he was left staring at a blurry cloud - a impressive, giant cluster of multichromatic galaxies and nebulae.

"Is this..."

"Yes. This is the universe. Or part of it, at least - a million-lightyear spherical radius, centered on Equestria, taken from current observations of the night sky over Equestria, by the Academy of Canterlot. It's an illusory spell. See anything familiar?"

The two pored over the model with heavy intent. Neither one had much experience reading the skies, for the lights of New York often dimmed out the stars - only the Comedian vaguely knew what they should be looking for, from the times he looked up at the sky during the war in Vietnam.

"Now, I'm… sorry to say that the chances of your finding your planet's distance from Equestria traversable by conventional _pony_ means are rather limited... You'd be lucky if you could get back."

"We have to get back," Rorschach said.

"...Then again, it's still worth a try. We'll set up some criteria, starting with the galaxy. So... shape of the galaxy?"

"Spiral," the Comedian replied.

"Okay, that rules out any possibility of your planet's being in our galaxy..." Twilight said. Rorschach buried his face in his brown-gloved hooves, and he growled in frustration. "Barred, intermediate, unbarred?" the princess asked.

"Barred." The Comedian noticed the magenta aura enveloping Twilight's horn turn a shade paler. The colorful nebulae and hazy clouds of stars disappeared, leaving a few lone galaxies floating in the cold darkness. But as the vigilantes took in the new universe, none of those tiny, hazy spirals seemed to be anywhere near the tiny dot that represented Equestria in the center of the illusion... _No... It can't..._

"Sorry, this might be hard on you, but... you're out of luck. The closest one's… thirty million lightyears away. There's no way a pony can travel that far in her lifetime, magic or ship."

Rorschach stared in desperation at the midnight-blue darkness, hoping that a spiral galaxy - the Milky Way - would become just faintly visible, a faint cloud of grey floating near the white dot in the center; he scanned over and over again, but found none.

_No..._

"Shit," the Comedian burst. Trixie watched the increasingly enraged Rorschach with an alarmed expression.

"...No." _No. It doesn't work this way... Adrian Veidt doesn't slaughter millions of people and just _get away_ with it..._

"Sorry, but it's scientifically impossible to-"

"No, no, no…" Rorschach's breathing became quick and heavy, and the world began to spin and race around him…

"No, no, NO, NOOO!" his gravelly voice became a furious roar. He threw a hoof at the wall next to him. His hoof burst through the paper-plaster wall, catapulting pieces of the drywall into the hallway outside the waiting room, accompanied by a cloud of plaster dust. Twilight cringed.

Rorschach reared his hoof, poising it for another strike. "NO, no," the Comedian quickly intervened, holding Rorschach's hoof back with his far more immense Earth pony strength. "Damn it, Rorschach..." the masked pony struggled and kicked against Blake's firm hold with futility, and he felt himself growing weak.

Rorschach looked back as the wall through the inkblots in his face, and sanity left him. The world seemed to shake and soar... and close in on him, shrinking and compressing into an ever-smaller space, and his breath quickened as the room's temperature suddenly rose to that of a furnace's, seemingly burning him alive. _NO... VEIDT..._

And the world began _laughing _at him, cackling mockingly at his _inability to do anything - to get back to Earth, to punish VEIDT for his crimes, to punish all those worthy..._

And the world became black.

* * *

"Hey, hey, hey, wait…"

"Huh?"

"I think he's awake…"

"Hey, Rorschach... bud, you okay?" the Comedian asked. Rorschach found himself lying on top of the soft surface of a mattress. He opened his eyes, and they were greeted by the silhouette of the Comedian above him blocking the dim orange circle of a ceiling lamp, within which he could see the individual glows of fireflies. To his relief, his face was still on.

"...Anxiety attack?"

"Doctors think so. But they say you're fine… 'a little violent for most anxiety attacks,' they said, 'but fine.'"

"What time is it?"

"1 AM."

Rorschach sat up from the mattress and looked around; the clean, stark hospital waiting room had changed to a dimly-lit... _library_, rows of oddly-shaped bookshelves composing the walls curving around Rorschach. In one corner of the library was a stairwell, and in another corner was the entrance to the library, a crimson-painted wooden door. Close behind the Comedian stood Princess Twilight, seemingly unfatigued despite the late hour, whispering to a small, purple figure with green scales standing next to her, holding a quill in one hand and writing on a piece of parchment in its other; it bore a vague resemblance to a humanoid... lizard, "...your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle," she finished.

Then the lizard did something completely unexpected - he rolled up the parchment, tied a ribbon with a golden seal on it, held the parchment up to his mouth, took a big breath, and _burped_ out a ball of green flame that momentarily lit the entire room up with green light. The parchment disappeared into a pile of smoldering ashes, floating in the air; the lizard walked over to the door and opened it just a crack, letting the wind carry the ashes out. Rorschach and the Comedian watched this in astonishment.

"So you're that 'Rorschach' Comedian keeps talking about?"

Rorschach nodded.

"Name's Spike. Nice to meet you." He extended a purple claw and five green talons. Rorschach extended his hoof cautiously, hoping this _lizard_'s handshakes weren't like... that mare's... what was her name? "Applejack".The two exchanged a gentle handshake.

"...*Yawn*... Twilight... can I go to bed yet? I'm done with the letter…"

"Sure, Spike. Your work's done for the day."

_A slave?_

"Spike" gave her a quick thanks, yawned, and walked up the stairs, his feet producing heavy, steady thump-thump sounds as they climbed each step. Rorschach watched as his spiked tail trailed up the stairs and up to the next floor.

"...yeah. So, that was Spike. He's my assistant dragon. He helps me manage the library and send letters to Princess Celestia, but he's… also a wonderful friend on his own. A bit naive, childish, maybe, but nonetheless an amazing friend."

"Wait, so, when he burned the letter…" the Comedian said, "and when he opened the door and the ashes…"

"Yep, I've heard that confused tone of voice before," Twilight replied, "...Princess Celestia has a special spell for me that lets her reconstitute the letter after she receives the ashes- I'm her personal student," Twilight glossed over this in a brusque manner, evidently trying not to seem too _showy_, "A princess… but a student. Not many unicorns have the luxury of a friend who can send letters to the ruler of Equestria with his breath, hehe…"

"Ruler of Equestria? Isn't there supposed to be a queen?"

"In tales for little fillies, yes, but not in Equestria. She basically has the same authority... but prefers the title 'Princess'."

"What was in that letter?" Rorschach asked.

"I just told her we're dealing with supposedly extraterrestrial creatures - humans, Blake told me - and asked if we could organize a meeting in Canterlot."

Suddenly, an *UURP* came from the room upstairs. The stairway flashed a bright green for a second.

"...ugh..." Spike's groan traveled down the stairway, followed by a tired Spike himself, holding a piece of parchment in his hand, which he began to read. "Ahem."

_Dear Princess Twilight Sparkle,_

_Please come to Canterlot tomorrow as soon as possible. Bring the two humans that were turned into ponies and nopony else. A chariot will arrive at 6:30 AM tomorrow._

_Sincerely, Princess Celestia_

"Well, looks like we're going to Canterlot."


End file.
